


joke me something awful just like kisses on the necks of best friends

by ElasticElla



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff, Multi, Post-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 07:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9062401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: For the record, Evelyn thought the bachelor auction was a terrible idea from the get-go.





	

**Author's Note:**

> title from fob's I've got a dark alley and a bad idea that says you should shut your mouth
> 
> [tumblr](http://bizeke.tumblr.com/) is my second home

For the record, Evelyn thought the bachelor auction was a terrible idea from the get-go. A weak post-season attempt to get people talking about _anything_ that wasn't Ginny's injury or the near no-hitter. It is for charity so Evelyn almost feels bad about being so cynical, but not bad enough to stop glaring at evening's host. How Oscar got stuck playing auctioneer she still doesn't know, but she's more than fine blaming the messenger as he rattles off Blip's stats. 

“And last but not least, our dear Blip is happily married so this will be a platonic date folks. Blip's offering a night out bowling and drinking beer. Do I have any first bidders?” 

A short redhead yells out a thousand, and Evelyn sips deeply into the wine they've been handing out. She knows logically that nothing will happen, and groupies throw themselves at Blip all the time-

“One thousand, one hundred!” 

“Three hundred!” 

“And five hundred!” 

“Two thousand!” 

-it's just usually easier to ignore. 

“Hey, you all right Ev?”

Ginny's at her shoulder, recently changed into a ball gown at the newly reinstated Amelia's insistence. 

“Yeah thanks. It's- I'll get over it. Feeling any better about your raffle?” 

Ginny squeezes her eyes shut briefly, a fake smile hitting her lips. “I didn't know Trevor was going to be here and Noah I thought I wanted to date again but he went and bought like a billion raffle tickets…”

“He can afford it,” she points out, and Ginny groans. 

“I know. I figured this would end with an awkward dinner with a fan not like a real date.”

“Hey chin up, someone else could win. I bought a ticket,” Evelyn says, bumping her shoulder. 

“You didn't,” Ginny says, a wide grin unfolding. 

“I most certainly did,” Evelyn replies, pulling out the tiny red ticket.

Ginny laughs, loudly enough that a few people turn, “Can you imagine Blip's face if you won?” 

Shaking her head and snorting, she says, “Amelia would kill me. And I wanted to donate, but not in the thousands.” 

Eyes sparkling, Ginny asks, “Are you calling me a cheap date?” 

There's a soft lull around them, and Oscar says, “Beer and bowling and Blip go to the brunette in the back! Twenty-three thousand five hundred, thank you for your generosity. Next up, we have the last of our gentlemen, Livan Duarte.” 

Evelyn turns back to Ginny, “Definitely a cheaper date than my husband.” 

Blip's shaking the brunette's hand, and she forces herself to keep her eyes on Ginny, hoping a new topic suddenly comes up. 

Unfortunately, Ginny's eyes are up on the list of total donations raked in so far, and Blip is on the top of it. “Shit, I figured the actually single guys would go for more.” 

“Scarcity?” Evelyn suggests, thrown back to Introduction to Economics lectures. Next year, she thinks, next year she's going back to school. The boys will be a little older, and she'll make sure her classes are while they're at school too. 

Evelyn comes back to the present, realizing Ginny never responded, and her hand is shaking a bit. 

Putting her glass down, Evelyn grabs the hand. “Hey, hey, talk to me. What's going on?” 

Ginny swallows, looking around. “What if he wins, and the public loves him and us and we turn into perfect pr material and can never break up and even if we did it'd all be my fault and-”

“Breathe girl,” Evelyn says, taking a few dramatic breaths that Ginny follows with a tight smile. “No one would- we _all_ love you okay? If you didn't want to date someone, they wouldn't ask much less make you. It's one raffle date and that's it, there are no strings.” 

Ginny closes her eyes, opens them with an easier smile as the bidding war over Livan ends. “Thanks, you're right.” 

Evelyn drops the still hand, picks her glass back up. “I'm always right.” 

“The time has come for a chance with our last player of the evening, Ginny Baker!” Oscar announces. 

“Fuck. Wish me luck,” Ginny says. 

“Always,” Evelyn answers, and Ginny heads up on stage. 

Blip comes back then, high fiving Ginny on the way. 

“Still a rockstar baby,” she says as Blip wraps an arm around her waist. 

He chuckles, “You weren't paying close enough attention- there was a bidding fight between three friends. Bragging rights for charity.” 

Evelyn laughs, leaning into his side, and tuning back in to Oscar's spiel. 

“-four hundred tickets so far. This is a last call for Baker's dinner and baked goods evening. Tickets are just one hundred dollars and the money goes to a good cause-” 

Blip whistles low, looking back up at the night's donations that include a climbing number for Ginny. “Damn, look at that.”

“Two hundred and sixteen- no seventeen now- thousand,” Evelyn adds. 

Blip kisses her temple, saying, “You're a machine woman.” 

She's about to retort that it's simple math when Eliot brings Oscar a glass box full of tickets. Ginny's gnawing on her lower lip, but Amelia must catch her eye as her publicity smile quickly appears. 

“She'll be okay,” Blip says, squeezing her hip. “Our girl's strong.” 

“And our raffle winner is… number three-seven-eight-four-two, Evelyn Sanders!” 

A spotlight suddenly shines on her, but all Evelyn sees is the quick flash of relief on Ginny's face.

.

One in four hundred and seventeen. 

Literally less than a one percent chance, less than a quarter of a one percent chance. 

Yet here she sits with Ginny at the newly opened Georgia's, photographs of them already taken by the entrance. They're decked out to the nines, Evelyn in a floor length peach gown and Ginny in a shorter shiny emerald dress. Both wildly too fancy for the family restaurant; it feels more like playing dress up than a classic date. 

“Have I thanked you enough for buying a ticket? Eliot gave me the numbers after, and Noah actually bought like half of them.” 

“Does that mean you're not going to let him rent out an entire restaurant for you again?” she asks. 

Ginny groans, “Yes. It was nice but, it felt so uneven. I dunno, this is good though.” 

Evelyn smiles, pleased none of their fellow restaurant goers have come up to Ginny. Most of them probably don't recognize her out of baseball gear- though there is one girl who _definitely_ knows who they are. (She hasn't stopped staring with wide eyes, not since Ginny walked in.)

They get three appetizers to share before a dinner plate- Ginny picking out spaghetti and meat balls with a wide grin. One camera comes into the restaurant as their main course appears, and Ginny's looking downright mischievous. 

“We should Lady and the Tramp it,” she says. “You _did_ win a date with me.” 

“Who are you calling a tramp?” Evelyn asks, but obliges, only nibbles on her next piece of pasta.

Ginny takes the other side, and it takes everything not to start laughing. Reenacting Disney in expensive dresses just feels ridiculous. But then, Ginny's only a breath away and the tension is shocking, steals away any humor. She freezes, nerves spinning, it's no longer a friendly outing or a-

Ginny's lips are warm and quick, the peck severing the pasta between them. 

The girl that's been watching has spilled her entire glass of water unknowingly, and Evelyn doesn't appreciate whatever that's supposed to mean or how much she identifies with that kid. 

The photographer leaves, and Ginny picks up the bill, and Evelyn still hasn't figured out how to make her lips stop tingling. 

Outside is clear, the air brisk and Ginny frowns. “Was it too much?” 

Evelyn smiles weakly, “It's cool. I believe you owe me some baked goods now?” 

“Mhmm. If you don't mind the venue change, I did drop off a tube of cookie dough at your place earlier.” 

“You sure Blip didn't eat it?” 

Ginny laughs, “Yeah I made him promise, and he said the boys would have their homework done by seven tonight. So we can all hang?” 

Evelyn hugs Ginny tight, “Sounds perfect.” 

.

Ginny _fits_. Fits into Evelyn's life and home and family in a way that makes her head spin. It's not like her presence is new, but the way Evelyn's thinking about her is, and God, she needs to talk with Blip. 

Not now though. Blip even let a photographer in on part two of their date, family cookie making time. Evelyn thought she was done being surprised today, Blip hated the media in private spaces, but he was grinning as the boys demand to turn _all_ the dough into cookies. (“Daaaaaad, it's a special occasion and Ginny's here. We need more cookies.” Unsurprisingly, Blip agrees while Ginny distracts her with a cute anecdote and then the cookies are in the oven.)

They send the photographer home with two cookies, and at nine on the dot, the boys have already brushed their teeth and climbed into bed. Evelyn knows they were so easy to put to bed in hopes of more cookies in their immediate future, and she can't claim it isn't a compelling argument. 

Back in the kitchen she finds Ginny and Blip cleaning up together, her stomach tightening at the sight. 

“You're not supposed to be cleaning up,” she says. 

Ginny shrugs, looking around the newly spotless kitchen, “Too late.” 

“Blip-” Evelyn starts. 

“She ate the last cookie!” Blip exclaims in a whisper-yell. “That means helping clean up.”

Rolling her eyes, she pulls Ginny into a hug. “Thanks so much for tonight.” 

“We should do it again.” Ginny says, adding when he clears his throat, “Blip can come too I guess.”

“Aw thanks rookie,” Blip says, causing Ginny to lightly punch his arm. 

“It's a date,” Evelyn says. 

(And sure enough, by the time their schedules match up once more and the boys have a babysitter, it _is_ a date.)


End file.
